


Spelling You

by ScopesMonkey



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScopesMonkey/pseuds/ScopesMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I posted this on tumblr ages ago, but I've been in the mood for Johnlock shmoop all day, so I thought I'd take the time to post it here, too.  It's short and totally pointlessly fluffy, be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spelling You

“He’s been at it all day, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Hudson said as John stared disconsolately at his flat from the doorway.

When he’d left that morning, Sherlock had been sulking on the sofa, complaining of being bored.  Now he was nowhere to be seen. 

It had been a long day and John just wanted to be at home and relax.  His chair looked so inviting.  But it was so far away. 

“Did he say _why_?” John asked in a hopeless voice.  Mrs. Hudson gave him a sympathetic look. 

“No, dear.  He would only tell me it was a surprise.” 

“ _John!_ ” Sherlock’s excited voice came from the direction of the upstairs bedroom and John heard the clatter of feet coming down the staircase.  He leaned in through the door to their flat, peering at his eccentric partner whose beaming face glowed at him from around the corner.

“Sherlock?” John asked.

“Do you like it?” Sherlock demanded, grey eyes dancing, a smile curling the corners of his lips.

John hesitated, uncertain as to what to say.  Sherlock was excited, but John had no idea why.

“I don’t know what it means,” he replied. 

“It means you,” Sherlock replied, his expression even more iridescent. 

“What?” John asked. 

“Observe,” his partner told him.  He stepped lightly past a curving row without jostling anything and then crouched down.  He glanced at John, grinned again, then flicked one long, dextrous finger against the small black rectangle. 

John watched, mesmerized, as the tiny blocks lay down in perfect order, one after another, his eyes following of their own accord.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

When the last one had teetered and toppled over, Sherlock extended his hand and manoeuvred them both delicately onto the couch.  John stood on the cushions next to his partner, still in his coat and wet shoes and work clothes, and looked down.

And then he saw. 

The carefully laid dominoes had been placed to spell out a name across the living room in fine cursive writing. 

_John._


End file.
